Francis and Frances
by Aliathe
Summary: After a mission to track down a thief for a client, Fran and Belphegor come across a Fran-look-a-like in a cafe. [twin!fran au] [one-shot]


**Summary:**

_After a mission to track down a thief for a client, Fran and Belphegor come across a Fran-look-a-like in a cafe. AU of Frog Hat, Apple Cap. Fem!Fran. Twin!Fran._

**Disclaimer:**

_I do not own any of the KHR! plot, characters, settings, etc._

* * *

"Shit!"

Two figures dashed around a corner, ducking into the concrete labyrinth of the city's towers and skyscrapers.

A stray bullet zipped past the cheek of the teen behind. Brushing the pale skin lightly with an equally pale finger, he stared detachedly down at the smear of blood, ignoring the dulled burning sensation coming from the shallow wound, and kept running.

"You know, Bel-senpai, this would be a great time for you to go into one of your crazy killing sprees," Fran commented blandly, letting his illusionary apple hat take the second bullet as he jumped (parkour style, anyone?) over a dumpster and continued following after the blond giggling maniacally in front of him.

(Thankfully, he wasn't forced to wear a frog hat again, like he had been wearing in the future; Mammon was technically still part of Varia, and therefore Fran wasn't quite a replacement yet. Not that that stopped that tiara-wearing creep {fallen prince Bel, he reminded himself} from continuing to call him a frog.)

"Ushishishishi~ the prince does what the prince wants! And who's fault is it that we were given wrong information about that thief we were supposed to slaughter, froggy? So **you're** the reason we're being chased by those wannabe mafioso, ushishishi~" Belphegor scoffed, before grudgingly sliding out ten knives into his hands with a well-practiced motion. "However," he continued, swerving to avoid a low-hanging pipe, "this running _is_ getting annoying, so the prince declares this game over." A flick of his fingers, and nine knives vanished before sprouting from their chasers' vital spots.

They dropped with hollow thuds, dead and glassy-eyed, with surprised expressions still stretched across their stilled features, only marred by the drops of glistening blood sprayed over their skin.

Belphegor stalked over to the downed corpses to inspect his handiwork, critically examining the placement of the throws; they'd been specially chosen for maximum bloodflow. He snickered, gleefully delighted, and crouched down to lazily dab a finger in the pools of blood that were still growing. His other hand withdrew a nondescript package from within his coat and dangled it mockingly with a razor-edged grin.

"Ushishishi~ that's what they get for thinking that they could best the Varia and spill the prince's royal blood, ushishishi~. And in the end, we have the main objective of the mission still: protect the Gossamer Pearl from prospective thieves. Slaughtering 'FRAME' was just our secondary goal, since the Pearl would be prime bait for getting the bounty on that particular thief's head."

Fran glided up behind the cackling psycho (in his opinion), pulling out and bending the tenth knife, which had been lodged in his left shoulder. Unceremoniously dropping the broken blade besides Bel, who twitched with annoyance at the sight of yet another one of his knives destroyed, Fran stayed standing. "Eh, Bel-sempai, I always knew you were twisted, but monologuing to the dead bodies of your pursuers seems a little stupid for a supposed genius. And that knife in my shoulder was on purpose, wasn't it?"

Noticeably not denying the knife-in-the-shoulder, Bel stood up and wiped off the blood onto his shirt, who's dark stripes hid the stains admirably well. "Ushishishi~ froggy's just bitter he's not as genius as the prince. The mission's over; now we're just supposed to wait until next week to return the Pearl, safe and sound, back to the client. The prince is hungry … and Varia Mansion is too loud with that shark around. We're stopping at that cafe."

The cafe indicated was probably a 24/7 coffee shop, considering that they were still open at nearly 11 o'clock at night. Fran made another smart remark about the "fallen prince never being hungry for anything except his own blood" and was stabbed again in the same shoulder. He trailed rather sulkily after Bel.

* * *

Belphegor stepped through the doorway, automatically taking in, dissecting, and analyzing the inside for possible dangers. It seemed like a safe, ordinary, civilian-frequented place; bell tinkling on top of the door, creamy textured wallpaper, comfy earth-toned chairs encircling coffee tables, and a bar-like ordering station that clearly led to the kitchen behind it. There were only three other customers besides him and the frog; reasonable for this late hour. He skipped over the college student madly typing away at her laptop in the corner, the weary businessman scrolling through his phone in the other corner, and went straight for the teen perching on one of the seats in front of the ordering bar, who was busy nursing a steaming mug of apple cider and a slice of raspberry pie.

Plopping on top of the stool next to the teen, Belphegor instantly had a knife materialize under the table, gripped and ready to kill. His posture relayed none of that readiness, however; indeed, he kept it intentionally relaxed, and turned to the teen with as friendly of a smile as he could muster up (which was pretty damn good, if he did say so himself; the prince was a fine actor, after all). The reason for his suspicion? The teen looked exactly like Fran in casual clothes without any hat, though perhaps with slimmer facial features. A black scarf was wrapped loosely around their neck. Therefore, a light interrogation was is order, before Belphegor decided that the look-a-like was an attempt by a rival Famiglia to mimic a Varia member, and thus needed to be promptly eliminated.

"Ushish-er, I mean, hello there. You look very familiar to someone I know. What's your name?"

The teal-haired teen delicately arched a brow in question, but complied by putting down their utensils. "And why would I tell you, potential-stalker? Who wears a _tiara_ now, anyways?"

Belphegor's smile tightened. Ugh, the frog clone even _spoke_ just like the froggy; as in, annoying blunt to the point of sociopathy, with a constantly monotone drone. Before he could stab them and test if they had as little of a reaction to pain, too, the actual frog came in through the door.

"Bel-sempai, that was mean, ditching me back there. I could've frozen and died tragically in the Italian January, you know. Oh, wait, I forgot; with how much you stab me, I suppose you'd rather I die, huh," Fran drawled, brushing off bits of frost-covered crackly leaves. He then raised his head and blinked. "Francy?"

The frog clone and henceforth dubbed "Francy" look up from their pie and cider and also blinked. "Franny."

Butting in, and impatient, Belphegor interrupted the monotone reunion. "Ushishishi~ the prince demands to know how the frog and the frog clone know each other~" His knife tapped the edge of the stool, glinting under the fluorescent lights, implying that it was really a demand.

They turned to the blond in unison, with identically blank faces. Then the 'clone' suddenly quirked up their lips into a half-smirk. "I'm his twin sister, of course, Belphegor of the Varia. It was _not_ a pleasure to have met you, Prince the Ripper, and may we never meet again."

Then she was gone. Belphegor was certain he'd never blinked nor taken his eyes off of her, and the knife that he'd thrown the second that she'd said "Varia" had somehow, inexplicably, missed. Even at the point-blank range.

The frog looked faintly amused, through his usual emotionless facade. "Don't bother," Fran advised, taking his sister's seat and picking up her fork. "She's an illusionist on par with me." He took a bite of the pie and a sip of the cider, seemingly unperturbed about eating someone's leftovers.

Fran paused mid-bite, and swallowed. "Oh, yeah," he mentioned casually, "I nearly forgot. You might want to check your jacket, Bel-sempai. My sister's an excellent pickpocket, so don't be surprised if you're missing a wallet. And the reason I gave you wrong information about 'FRAME'? Familial obligation, of course."

Belphegor stabbed a knife into his uncute kouhai's shoulder (_again_), suddenly alert as he connected the dots rapidly. His other hand frantically rummaged around in his jacket pockets, patting for the package that was no longer there. "You mean…" he hissed, no longer in the laughing mood.

Fran just smirked, that same insufferably smug smirk as his insufferably smug sister. He raised his mug of cider, pinky out in a mockingly dainty gesture. "But of course," he answered boredly. "Haven't you guessed, _fallen prince_? Francy-nee is 'FRAME'. And I'm not going to be the one giving the mission report to the loudmouthed shark today, so bad luck with that, Bel-sempai."

(He was rewarded with dozens of knives embedded in his back, but it was _so_ worth it. Because let's face it, Fran's a total troll at heart.)

* * *

"VOOOOOOIIIII!? WHAT THE HELL DO YOU MEAN YOU _LOST_ THE PEARL YOU FUCKING IDIOT PRINCE!?"

Belphegor bore the brunt of Squalo's anger with gritted teeth and fingers that twitched to unleash some bloodshed. His only solace right now was that at least he hadn't let the frog _completely_ manage to wiggle out of giving the mission report alongside him. Indeed, right now the frog was at his left, obviously tuning out the shark commander, judging by his indifferent look.

That damned frog even dared to fucking _yawn_ and stretch like he'd just woken up from a nap. Fran turned his indifferent look onto the angry (-er than usual, anyway) silver-head. "You know," he mentioned, as lightly as if commentating on the weather outside, "this mission doesn't have to be Varia's first failed one. I could always just call my sister and ask her to return it. She'd probably say yes; I _am_ her only plus jeune frère jumeau {younger twin brother), after all."

Belphegor and Squalo both rounded on the blank-faced teal-head. "YOU...YOU...ARGH! VOOOOOIIII! WHY DIDN"T YOU SAY THAT EARLIER!?"

Fran shrugged. "You didn't ask," he replied simply. Noticing Belphegor's twitchy fingers, Fran tutted. "Tsk, tsk, Bel-sempai. I'll only give my soeur {sister} a call if you refrain from injuring me in any way until she gets here. That should be ...oh… a day? Maybe two? Surely no trouble for a fallen prince such as yourself," Fran added blandly.

Squalo was also twitching by now. "VOOOIIII! JUST FUCKING CALL YOUR FUCKING SISTER ALREADY! AND DO AS HE SAYS, YOU BLOND IDIOT PRINCE, OR THIS MISSION FAILURE WILL GO ON BOTH OF YOUR RECORDS PERMANENTLY!" Then he stormed off, presumably to vent out some more anger in the training room.

"Jeez," Fran remarked, an eyebrow raised a fraction. "His anger management sessions aren't doing any good, are they? I heard he killed the psychologist again; that'll be the fifth one this month." He then turned to Belphegor, with an uncharacteristic glint in his lidded teal eyes. "You heard what the shouting shark said, Bel-sempai? Just do as I say; meaning, you can't hurt me in any way until she gets here, as stated."

Belphegor relaxed his tight grip around his trusty knives, and grumbled out an affirmative. "Ushishishi~ the prince takes orders from no one~ However, he will not attack the froggy, because he feels like it~" (Of course, he had to save face somehow.)

The frog just smirked that smirk again. "No matter what," he reminded Bel. Fran mentally grinned. /Oh, was I am _so_ going to have fun provoking the fallen prince. Well, right after I call soeur./

* * *

At dinner that night, Xanxus was brooding as usual, Squalo was fuming more than usual, Levi was … Levi, Mammon was out on Arcobaleno business, Fran was calm as usual, Belphegor was stabbing his food more viciously than usual, and Lussuria was both worried and confused, _not_ as usual.

"Bel-chan~ why do you look so much more murderous than normal? Do I have to sign you up with Squ-chan for anger management classes?" The _flamboyant_ mohawk-wearer scolded dotingly, living up to his self-proclaimed title of "Mother Luss".

Fran piped up with an answer. "Eh, Peacock, Bel-sempai's just sulking because he's not allowed to stab me until my sister gets here. And the loud shark already killed his psychologist two days ago. You need to hire another one again before you traumatize the poor guy with the combined insanity of them both," he advised, seemingly unconcerned that Lussuria and Levi were choking on their food.

(Lussuria recovered quickly, but Levi fell off of his chair and fainted. Everyone ignored the crumpled Lightning Guardian on the floor.)

Xanxus, who had been filled in by Squalo, did nothing except give a slight affirmative grunt at Fran's statement. Squalo clarified with a scowl. "VOOOOIII! THOSE TWO IDIOTS LOST THE FUCKING PEARL THEY WERE SUPPOSED TO PROTECT FOR THE SHITTY MISSION! VARIA DOESN'T ACCEPT FAILED MISSIONS, AND THE FROG SAID HE COULD GET THE PEARL BACK FROM HIS THIEF SISTER, BUT ONLY IF THE STUPID PRINCE DOESN'T STAB HIM UNTIL SHE GETS HERE!" Satisfied with his bellowed explanation, he "harrumphed" and started eating back, the scowl easing slightly.

Lussuria was apparently not as satisfied, and turned questioningly to the teal illusionist, who complied with a shrug. "My soeur is 'FRAME'. She stole the Pearl from Bel-sempai, who didn't notice because she's better at being a thief than she is at being an illusionist, and as an illusionist she'd on par with me. She'll slip in and hand over the Pearl sometime around lunch tomorrow, and I'll be taking the day off to show her around town. This is my first time seeing her in person for nearly eight months, you know," he said blandly, making sure to add the whole 'family sentiment' anecdote in order to appeal to the Sun Guardian's fondness for drama and family-bonding.

Then he finished eating, and left the dining room, enjoying the absence of knives whizzing past. /Man, if this was what it took to get the crazy fallen prince to stop stabbing me, I would've unveiled soeur _ages_ ago. It's still as much fun stirring up trouble now as it was five years ago, before Varia and Kokuyo came recruiting. Good thing that soeur blocked that cheese wheel from hitting me on the head; otherwise, I could've forgotten all the future memories and not known what to look out for./

* * *

The next day, two brunette twins could be spotted at an outdoor Italian cafe, sipping bubble tea and eating pastries.

"Mmm… this is peaceful," a disguised Frances Amarante Brume commented, idly making swirls in her cake's frosting.

"Eh, whatever you say, soeur," a similarly disguised Francis Alphonse Brume agreed, closing his normally teal eyes in order to bask properly in the noonday sunshine.

"Oh? Soeur, huh? Good to see you haven't forgotten your roots in favor of your current transplant, frère," she teased in their trademark flat tone.

Anyone else would've taken it as an insult, but Fran could read through his sister's lengthened plant metaphors and blank voice. /Translation: It's great to see you again, brother, and I'm still your sister. How's Italy? Do you want to go visit France?/ "Of course I haven't, sorella (sister). And I have no desire to taste Granny's bentos ever again."

/Translation: Italy's good and all, but France will always be my home, don't worry. The Italian was just thrown in there to annoy you. How's the old woman doing? Still alive and kicking back at Jura?/ Frances openly smirked at her little brother. "I have no delusions that you'd have wanted to, fratellino (little brother). So," she changed the subject abruptly, "what happened when you left the mansion to come meet up with me? You have that look on your face that you always get when you've caused some positively _delicious_ chaos."

Fran sighed at Frances' expectant look, before the fake-reluctance was wiped away and replaced by an eager retelling, the monotone drone still evident but less so. "Well, after you somehow managed to slip in, undetected, to the Varia dining room and left the Pearl packaged on the fallen prince's breakfast plate without anyone seeing, _even though we were all sitting there_, naturally a hubbub occurred."

"Oh, getting in was easy. I just illusioned myself to look even more like you, and walked straight past the gate guards. A few well-placed snarks later, and no one questioned my lack of true identification. Our Mist Flames are similar enough that mine didn't raise any alarms, either. After that, I simply used my standard illusion clone to waltz in under invisibility illusions. It stood right next to the prince-guy you mentioned, and then dropped the dis-illusioned package onto his plate once everyone was there and watching. Then I dispelled my illusion clone and walked right back out of the gates, _dearest little __fratellino_," Frances explained with some measure of pride.

Her twin simply shook his head. "Of course you did," Fran muttered, before continuing. "So yes, after that, the fallen prince got all angry and knife-psycho cuh-_razy_. Yours truly was turned into a veritable pincushion, no thanks to you, Francy-nee. The boss just raised an eyebrow and looked faintly amused. The loudmouth shark starting swearing and 'VOOOOIIII'-ing up a storm about how they needed to tighten security and start training more. Lightning-pervert started saying something in defense of the boss and got nailed unconscious by a broken wineglass. And the gaylord peacock swooned and _fluttered_ about 'family bonding' and 'you're beloved nee-chan must be here'. You're just lucky that the Arcobaleno was still out; Mammon would've probably tried to hound you into stealing a lot of money." He gave a mock-shudder. "You two would be a match made in wherever bankrupt people go when they die," he added with a snicker.

Frances took no offense to Fran's match-making suggestion, and instead raised her cup, watching the tapioca spheres swirl around. "I suppose they're out looking for us right now, then?"

Fran raised his own cup in answer. "Do you even need to ask?"

The two clinked cups to the background of a sudden explosion from the direction of Varia Mansion. They shared a secretive, eerily synchronized Chesire smile, before reciting a short poem from memory in an rhyming unison.

"Brume family motto:

Sow panic wherever you go,

just make sure to watch the show,

hide all the evidence they might get,

and leave no witnesses, not just yet."

Another clink of the cups, and the two did just that: watched the show.

* * *

"Oh, and hey, Fran?"

"Hmm?"

"You could tell that the Pearl I left was a fake, right?"

"But of course, sorella. But of course."


End file.
